Harry Potter and the Fanfiction Authors of Doom
by Silver Weasley
Summary: Some might say it's unfair to make fun of HP fanfiction authors. Yeah, well screw that. The fans are the ones who know best...right? [Warning: Parodies and Attempts at Humor Ahead]
1. In Which Albus is Angsty

_Harry Potter and the Fanfiction Authors of Doom_

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, as if I could actually pretend J.K. wrote _this. _Characters and basic plot line go to her, random, twisted attempt to make fun of every HP theory/pairing/whatever I can think of goes to me.

**Summary: **Some might say it's unfair to make fun of HP fanfiction authors. Yeah, well screw that. The fans know best anyways, right? Warning: Parodies and Attempts at Humor Ahead

**A/N: **Ok, um, so. Basically the idea for this story spawned off of a conversation I was having with my little sister and evolved into one extremeley messed up story. I'm definitely planning on making fun of EVERYBODY, including myself, because, well, what do we fanfiction authors know anyways? Oh, and Dumbledore is really messed up in this first chapter because I wrote most of this with a fever of one hundred and two. If you've seen Potter Puppet Pals, I was picturing his voice as the Dumbledore from that, but then he became like a Potter Puppet Pals Dumbledore/Hyper Teenage Girl hybrid...and...um. Yeah. Don't shoot me. XD.

**_ooo_**

**Chapter One:**

**In Which Albus is Angsty**

**and Snape is Suicidal**

Albus Dumbledore was in angst. Angstful, angsty, angst, and for the love of Merlin, he needed a vacation—and a permanent one at that. Not many people truly appreciated the weight of being Headmaster of a school full of whiny, ungrateful brats, playing mentor to a boy hero whose scar was definitely overrated, and being constantly sugar high. He only ate the damn lemon drops because he had a reputation to uphold. Duh.

Ah, yes, it was very hard work being the Greatest Wizard Who Had Ever Lived, and to be frank, Albus had tired of it. Potter was SUPPOSED to be destined to save the world, what was _Albus _still hanging around helping him out for? As far as he could see, the only way out of this irritating saving mankind business was to disappear forever.

But how?

Of course, there was really only one way to disappear forever and not have people come looking—death.

Well, Albus might have been angsty, but he wasn't quite at the suicidal stage…

…yet.

It was Snape who gave him the idea, really. The poor greaseball only had himself to blame.

"Headmaster!" Snape had cried after one of Albus' weekly rantings at him (the Defense professor was beginning to tire of all the hair braiding and ice cream), "I don't understand why you don't just leave if you're so miserable! You're giving me a migraine, and I'm already up to my ears in trying to keep the Dark Lord and his questions about my evilness at bay!"

"What do you think I'm paying you for?" Albus asked indignantly, sniffing and wiping the remaining angsty tears from his wizened cheeks. "If you get a migraine now and then, it should MORE than make up for that enormous raise I gave you; do you have any idea how much sherbet lemons co—" He stopped short, staring at Snape in wonder. "Just a moment, Sev," he said softly. "My God, you're a genius!"

"Oh, shit," muttered Snape, staring warily at his mentally unstable boss. The old coot never acknowledged his intelligence unless Snape had inadvertently sparked a Really Stupid Idea. Oblivious to this, Dumbly prattled on.

"No, really, Sev!" Albus cried. "You are! I don't know why I've stuck around this dreary old castle for so long. Thank you so much for agreeing to help me escape!"

"But I—"

"I know, old chap. It's the least you could do for me."

"Sir, I—"

"Now, Severus, I really must insist you stop thanking me for that favor I did you. I honestly feel that you've proved yourself worthy."

"Headmaster, please, I'm not trying—"

"Yes, I know you've been wasting time with old Tom. You haven't been doing the job I know you can. But this is your way to repay me, Sevvy. All you have to do is beam me to Jamaica and pretend like you've killed me. If you run fast enough, I'll bet you won't even have to go to Azkaban!" Severus stared, his mouth almost hitting the floor.

_Minerva was right, _he thought furiously. _I should've resigned after he tricked me into 'donating' half my salary to pay for his phoenix's pyromaniac therapy regimen._

"The spell is actually quite simple," Albus continued on cheerily, "and I think you'll have no trouble with it. I can't tell you how much this unexpected show of loyalty means to me, Snapey. After all these years…"

"Sir," Snape said through gritted teeth, "I really don't think this is—" But Dumbledore was already writing a letter, completley ignoring him.

"I have connections," he said to no one in particular. "There's a certain Jamaican tour company who owes me a ginormous favor, and I am oh so definitely _out _of here. Sev, you're really going to have to make this killing me thing plausible. I might have to look old and weak, and you're going to have to look cold and merciless, capiche? Oh, and you'll need to mask the spell behind an actual killing curse."

"Uh…_what?" _

"What, I didn't tell you I invented the _Anti-Avada_? All I have to do is mentally block the Killing Curse while you mentally send me to Jamaica. Oh, and of course you'll have to make it look like I died, so be prepared with a fake dummy replica of me." Cheerfully, he sent the letter off with Fawkes, the aforementioned pyromaniac phoenix.

"Headmaster," Snape cried, now at his wit's end, "this is madness! How am I going to have time to prepare all of this? And what about the world? Are you just going to abandon it in its time of need?"

"Uh…" Albus said, pretending to think. "…no _duh. _C'mon, Severus, I've saved everyone before. Like tons of times, too. Everybody else gets to retire at age sixty, and look at me—I'm like fifty hundred years past my expiration date. It's time I 'died' anyways." He checked his watch, and Fawkes appeared back in the office with a burst of flame. A charred envelope floated its way into Dumbledore's ancient, blackened hand (damn Tom and his stupid Horcrux!) and he scanned the reply quickly. "Excellent! I leave tomorrow night!" He beamed at his aghast employee. "That should give you plenty of time to get ready!"

"Ok, listen to _me, _you sugar high, rambling, senile _lunatic, _I am NOT pretending to kill you! Do you think I want to go to Azkaban if they catch me? And if nothing else, think of the _fans, _sir. The fans will murder me! I'll never be able to escape their wrath!" For a moment, the crazed look seemed to clear from the Headmaster's eyes before the Author handed him a few more Fizzing Whizbees.

"By George, you're right again, Sev!" he whispered, now completley hyper. "You could easily outwit the Dementors and Aurors, but yes, the fans, they are the real danger. What to do…what to do…" The wise—coughsenilecough— old headmaster sat down with a plop at his desk, head in hands. Several minutes passed in which Severus bit his nails down to the quick. It was no joke, thinking of all those enraged Muggles out for his hide. The power of one seriously pissed off fangirl alone was enough to make the Dark Lord himself quiver in fear!

"Wait!" Albus cried triumphantly. "_I've got it!"_

"Great," muttered Severus, preparing himself for another Really Stupid Idea.

"Ok, so, like nobody is going to believe that I, actually, y'know, _died." _Albus snorted, and the Author swooned. Dumbledore was like, _so _eloquent! "I totally forgot that every person alive thinks I'm invincible like Sirius and Gandalf and all those other they-died-but-not-really people. Well, Gandalf did come back, at least." Albus paused to reminisce. "Didn't you think that was so cool in the movie? I, almost, like, totally, like _died."_ He chuckled. "Get it? Died?"

"Headmaster," Severus put in, shuddering at the mention of ANOTHER creepy old wizard—Merlin knew England truly only had room enough for one. "You were saying?"

"Oh, right. Sorry. Anyways, so when you kill me, most people are going to think we had a plan." He eyed the Potions-cum-Defense professor. "So actually, this gets you off the hook because obviously people will think that you are good. Which I guess you are. Sort of."

"Thanks," Severus said dryly.

"Oh, yeah, no problem. And since they'll think I'm alive, I guess you'll have to come visit me and keep me updated and then I can bestow wisdom from the 'dead' on you and you can go tell it to Potter or whatever. 'k?"

"Erm—'

"Lovely! So anyhoo, there will be people who DO believe you killed me and are an evil bastard, but they will still think I magically survived (which I will, teehee!), but they won't be _as_ pissed at you because I am not dead."

"Reassuring."

"I thought so, too. And moving on, the fans you REALLY have to watch out for are the ones who think that I'm dead and you're evil. They're the ones who'll be coming after you, along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, the entire Order of the Phoenix, a couple of Death Eaters who liked me, the entire wizarding world except for Fudge, and Dobby, because he thinks I'm awesome since Scar-Head worships me." Albus beamed at Severus. "So you should totally be able to handle that, don't you think?"

"I…I…I…" That was about all a flabbergasted Severus Snape could manage. His eyes were bugging out of his head at this point, what little color he had completley drained as he imagined exactly what he'd have to do in order to send the Headmaster on his "little" vacation.

"Good man! I always knew I could count on you!" Dumbledore twinkled his eyes at his now suicidal employee. "Sleep well, Severus! I'll see you bright and early; I'll have candy to eat and Horcrux hunts to bungle up, and you get to get ready to pretend to kill me!" He leaned in conspiratorially. "This is gonna be _so _much fun." He offered Snape a tin. "Lemon drop?"

In response, Snape grabbed the candy, shoved it down his throat, and attempted to choke himself.

Too bad for him Dumbledore was, among other things, an expert at the Heimlich.

**A/N Again: **Uh, I'm almost scared to say review.


	2. In Which Harry Hearts Hermione

_**Disclaimer: **I personally think J.K. would murder me if she read this, so yeah. Characters and settingnot mine._

**A/N: **Ok, Harry/Hermione shippers, please do not kill me. I'm going to make fun of R/Hr and H/G and many other pairings in due time. I am only basing some of the things in here off of CERTAIN H/Hr shippers who I found to be a bit...well...maniac, but don't worry. I know there are maniac R/Hr shippers out there too. We'll get to them eventually.

_**ooo**_

**Chapter Two:**

**In Which Harry Temporarily Hearts Hermione**

**and Voldemort is Vanquished…Sort Of**

Abruptly changing settings and zooming about three months into the future, the Author lays out a scene of grim, grotesque, gloominess. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione ("'Mione/Herm-Never-Mind-That-Ron-and-Harry-Only-Call-Her-Hermione-in-the-Books") Granger were sitting in the tearful, terrible, tiny town of Godric's Hollow, guarding…something…unspecified. Something _unspecific_ but _totally _important. Yes, it was imperative He Who Must Not Be Named _never _discover the UIO (Unspecified Important Object). Ron was hungry, because when is he not? No, seriously. Name one time when he's not moaning about food and saying bloody hell or irritating Hermione.

"Bloody hell," Ron moaned. "I'm hungry!"

"Well," Hermione said irritably (because when is Hermione not irritable?), "why don't you go find some food, then, and stop bothering my one true love—I mean Harry—and me?"

"Bloody hell, 'Mione," Ron said thickly, looking delighted. "What a bloody brilliant idea!" And with that, he ran off to a local pub. Or something.

"So," Harry said once the bungling sidekick had departed, completley oblivious to Hermione's one true love comment, "how've you been?"

"_Tired!" _Hermione cried dramatically. "I am so tired of hiding!"

"But Herm," Harry said sensibly, "we have to hide. D'you want to die?"

"No, that's not what I mean," Hermione said impatiently. "I mean hiding my true feelings…for you!"

"Oh," Harry said, beginning to catch on. "That." The pair sat in silence for a moment before Harry nervously glanced up at the Author, who was busy playing Solitaire and momentarily ignoring them. "Erm, Hermione," Harry whispered, "you're acting a bit odd."

"I know," Hermione agreed in hushed tones, "but they'll stop at nothing! They're determined that no matter what J.K. Rowling says, _they _are the ones who have the right idea." She snorted. "After all, J.K. just wrote the books. What does _she _know?"

"So what do we do?" Harry asked nervously.

"We have to be totally out of character," Hermione responded at once. "If my love for Ron gets in the way, they'll just make him more stupid and then 'accidentally' kill him off. We have to be careful. Say something about Ginny being a whore, and then tell me I look nice."

"Good idea!" Harry said enthusiastically. "We might have to snog and forget to guard the UIO, though." He wrinkled his nose. "Gross."

"Harry," Hermione said primly, "do you want Ron and Ginny to die mysterious, random deaths that don't make sense?"

"No."

"Then Goddammit, TAKE ME NOW!" Hermione cried dramatically, throwing herself at Harry and once more attracting the Author's attention.

"Erch—I mean, ok!" Harry said nervously, trying to think of something convincing. "Ginny is a ho, and Hermione, you look nice today!" Not that he could actually _see _her, as she had accidentally knocked his glasses off in her fit of passion.

"I said _whore_, not _ho,_" she hissed in his ear. "Those are two completley different things!"

"No," Harry argued, deciding to go out of character and grab the conveniently located dictionary in his pocket to make this "I Heart Hermione" thing more plausible. "Whore," he pronounced studiously, locating his glasses and then shoving Hermione off of his rib cage, "an offensive term for a prostitute." He flicked back to the letter 'H.' "Ho: a taboo term for a prostitute." He glared at Hermione. "Now, you can't tell me that doesn't mean the same thing."

"Oh, whatever," Hermione said anxiously, glancing up at the confused Author. "Harry, I love you!"

"Oh. Right. I, um, you know, love you, too." Harry coughed, and Hermione elbowed him in the face. "I mean, yes, Hermione, I love you as well! My heart beats for you and only you!"

"Oh, Harry!"

"Oh, Hermione!"

"Bloody hell!"

"Wait," Hermione hissed at Harry, staring irritably into his engaging, emerald eyes, "Ron is the only one who says that in fanfiction! Don't get _too _OOC!"

"Harry didn't say that," a tragic voice proclaimed, "_I _did!" A shocked Hermione and Harry glanced up to see a horrified Ron standing before them, a turkey leg clutched in his fist. The Author smiled evilly and munched on another handful of popcorn.

"Crap," Harry muttered. "Um, Ron, this isn't—"

"Don't try to hide it anymore!" Ron cried angstfully, taking a huge bite out his turkey leg. "I've seen the wistful looks you two shoot each other when you think that I'm, not looking! I know it is kismet that you are meant to be together, no matter what that moron J.K. Rowling says! Oh, Hermione, I am woeful that you do not love me as I have for so long loved you, and Harry, Ginny will become even more of a skank once she finds out you have tricked her, but I want you to know, I'm _happy for you!" _He paused to draw a breath after such an uncharacteristic use of so many long words. The Author looked up guiltily from her thesaurus, then gave up. "And yah, I think I'm like feelin kinda depressed now," Ron admitted, chomping down on the turkey again. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he pointed tremblingly at a spot slightly to the left. "Bloody, blimey, blinking hell—check it out, yo, it's Voldemort!"

And, sure enough, it was.

"Hey, Potter," the Dark Lord himself said impatiently, folding his arms and tapping his foot. He'd been watching this little tête-à-tête for far too long; he definitely had wasted enough of his evil time. "We gonna do this or what?"

"Yes!" Harry cried bravely, throwing Hermione off of him and jumping up heroically. "You will not win, Voldemort! You will not kill my friends anymore! You will not find the Unspecified Important Object, which is located at the site of my parent's house in Godric's Hollow!" He glared menacingly at his archenemy. "Yes, the very same!"

"Uh..." said Voldemort, understandably bemused. "…right." He drew his wand. Takeover time was ticking away—ticking!—and he still had his weekly AA session in a half hour. "Ok, so, time to die, kid. _Avada Kerdava!" _he yelled diabolically. "_Sayonara_, sucker."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried Ron, in ridiculously slowed-down anguish. "Haaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyy!" He dove spectacularly in front of his best mate, absorbing the spell.

"Ron!" cried Harry, somewhat more quickly. "No!" But it was too late: the redhead and his turkey leg had kicked the bucket.

Which means they were dead.

"I'll get you for this, Voldy!" Harry hollered angrily, but Voldemort was already cursing him again. The _Avada Kerdava _spell hit him with the force of a tractor, but miraculously, Harry survived. The spell bounced off of him and hit Voldemort, who, since Harry still hadn't managed to find the last Horcrux, disappeared with a pop, once more reduced to little more than a pathetic excuse for a soul. Hermione stared at Harry, who stared at the Ron's corpse, who stared at the turkey leg, who stared at…

Ok, never mind.

But, no, anyways, Hermione said sadly,

"Harry, what's that on your forehead?"

"This?" Harry reached up, and found that he had not just one scar, but TWO now! The second scar seemed to be in the shape of a turkey leg. "Oh my God!" Harry yelled. "Ron's loyalty and brotherly love have saved me from the Killing Curse, just like my mother's love saved me when I was a baby!" He drew a large breath. "This is _so cool. _Just think: we get to go find Voldemort _a second time_, and go back to school because he will undoubtedly possess/control a DADA professor. Oh, and we gotta bring Ron back from the dead."

"I'm not dead," Ron said suddenly. He jumped to his feet. "The turkey leg took most of the spell. You all right mate?"

"Yep," Harry said, proudly showing his friend his new scar.

"Well," Hermione said, sighing wearily. "Come on. We'd better go to school and find You-Know-Who."

"_Again,_" Ron groaned. "Ugh, I thought we were well shot of Hogwarts."

From somewhere not too far away, the Author cackled evilly.

**A/N: **Once again, scared to see reviews. But oh well. That's what I get for writing under the influence of cold medicine. XDD


End file.
